Through the Snake's Eyes
by willow314
Summary: Sequel to Love is.... Sam's story.
1. Chapter 1: The Town and The Man

Through The Snake's Eyes

Through The Snake's Eyes

Chapter 1: The Town and the Man

America is a beautiful country with lots of beautiful people. The sights in America are simply amazing. The big cities are spectacular. Los Angeles is wondrous. New York City is simply magical. However, overlooked too much are the small towns.

Kenneth Paddleport was the kind of man who preferred to visit small towns rather than big cities. Born and bred in London, England, Kenneth found the small towns fascinating. He fell in love with one such town in the state of Georgia. Masonville. Kenneth loved the town of Masonville. "I'm going to live here one day," he often thought.

Kenneth thought a lot. It was part of his job. He was a journalist of sorts. He wrote articles for his monthly column in the _Daily Prophet_, "Muggle Watch." His articles described the odd things muggles did, the odd explanations muggles came up with when they encountered magic, and the odd things muggles use to make up for their lack of magic. He also wrote for other papers and magazines. He even wrote an article for the Quibbler once called "What Muggles Believe In." Kenneth was a free lance writer. That's what he loved about his job. Freedom. He had the freedom to write about whatever he wanted. And he wanted to write about muggles and the town of Masonville.

Kenneth visited Masonville annually to do research on his yearly article on Masonville and to see the sites. He always went during the month of September. This was the perfect month. Not too hot. Not too cold. Perfect. Whenever Kenneth was in England, all he could think about was Masonville. He thought about the beautiful campus of Georgia College, the old, pink governor's mansion, and a nifty American store called Wal-Mart.

On one prolonged visit to the city, he decided to go on a ghost tour the city was offering. He loved the way muggles talked about their so-called ghosts. Muggles thought every ball of light, every floating object was a ghost. They had no idea why ghosts were even around. This was mainly because of the Ministry of Magic. The American Ministry had forbidden ghosts to appear before muggles. If on the off chance a muggle saw a ghost, the ghost was to act stupid. The ghost should repeat events, just walk through the nearest wall, or disappear. On no account was a ghost to make contact with the muggle. Most of the time, the ghosts obeyed the law. Those that didn't were punished. No one was really sure how.

On this particular ghost tour, Kenneth was going to take some interesting pictures for the article he was writing called, "Muggle's Ghosts." He had written the article the previous year, but the pictures he took then weren't good enough. Unfortunately, that was his last night in town so he couldn't go back the next night. This time would be different, however. This time he had three nights to get pictures.

Kenneth arrived at the designated spot with five minutes to spare. It was already quite dark. At eight o'clock the tour guide stepped to the front of the group.

"Everyone here?" she asked, as she scanned the crowd before her with brown eyes that would melt a man's heart and leave him incapacitated for days. She was Kenneth's age and stunningly beautiful. Kenneth found himself wanting to run his fingers through her sleek brown hair. Her lips were just the right size, and her nose fit her perfectly. Kenneth got lost in her beauty when he looked at her.

"All right folks. My name is Emily, and I'm your tour guide tonight. First, I'd like to thank you for coming out. You are all very brave. Some of the spirits we'll encounter are temperamental. They don't like tour groups coming in. So, hang on to those little ones. We don't want to lose them. Not like last time." Emily bowed her head in a mock moment of silence. Kenneth chuckled to himself. She was a very good tour guide. "Well, no point in standing here getting cold. Let's see if the ghosts want to come out and play."

A small child, seven or eight by the look of him, held on tight to the hand of a woman, who was presumably his mother. Emily, the tour guide, turned and led the group across the street to a cemetery.


	2. Chapter 2: Birthday Surprise

Chapter 2: Birthday Surprise

Samantha Paddleport was four years old when something woke her up in the dead of night. At first she didn't know what it was. Then she heard muffled shouting coming from the general direction of the family room. Quietly she crept from her bed. With a cautious look at her closet, she tip-toed to the door and opened it a crack. It was open just enough to see the back of the couch and her mother pacing back and forth.

"Just what am I supposed to think, Kenneth?!" shouted Emily Paddleport.

"Honey, please. It's not bad."

"And what about my daughter?" Emily interrupted. She was glaring furiously at Kenneth and pointing towards Sam's bedroom door. "Is she…?" Emily could not bring herself to ask the question. Kenneth's eyes flashed toward the bedroom door. She wasn't sure, but Sam thought her father saw her. Sam immediately shut her door, but not before hearing her father answer, "I believe so."

The next morning Sam woke up to a very unpleasant surprise. She walked into the kitchen to see her father slumped over the table. It appeared that he stayed up all night.

"Daddy?"

Kenneth Paddleport jerked awake. He looked around, hopeful. When Sam was all he saw his face fell slightly. Quickly he composed it and said, "Sweetie, good morning. He licked his lips as he continued. "Come here, Samantha. I need to talk to you."

Sam walked over slowly. She didn't like the tone of his voice as he said that. Also, he never called her "Samantha" before.

"Where's Momma?" Sam's high-pitched voice was thick with worry.

"Momma had to go, honey."

"When will she be back?"

"Samantha, your mother," her father paused as if deciding what to say. "She's not coming back."

Samantha gasped awake. It took her a while to remember where she was and even what day it was. This was the day she turned eleven.

She was expecting another ordinary day, hopefully with a few presents involved. Just like every other birthday, she thought. At least school is out. She had the whole summer to think of tricks to play on those bullies that terrorized her during the school year. But the funny thing was that she seemed to be able to get back at bullies without trying. She would find that she could run so much faster than the fitness tests said she could. And when she looked back the bullies would trip over their own feet. When they got up they would be covered with scratches. A couple of times one of them would even have a serious gash.

Today, however, nothing like that would happen. Today she would spend time with her father.

Sam walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

"Hi Dad," said Sam with fake cheerfulness as she entered the room that smelled of almost burned cinnamon rolls. Mr. Paddleport burned just about everything he cooked.

"Good morning, Birthday Girl!" Mr. Paddleport grinned broadly as he opened the oven to save the rolls. "Got to them just in time." Even after all these years in America Mr. Paddleport had not lost his English accent. Sam knew he was from London, and that he was a journalist. She used to want to be just like him. She even tried her hand at writing. She stopped only after her best friend at the time laughed at her work and told her to quit while she was ahead. That same day something went incredibly wrong with a science demonstration and the "best friend" was rushed to the hospital. After that she transferred to a different school.

"See," said Sam, "this is why you should let me cook."

"Nonsense. It's your birthday. Happy Birthday, dear."

As he passed her on the way to put the cinnamon rolls on the table, he kissed Sam lightly on her head.

Sam grimaced. "Da-a-ad," she said, turning the monosyllabic word into three syllables, as she sat at the table. Taking a cinnamon roll she gazed at the presents occupying the other side of the table. There were three of them. One was from her father. One was from her Uncle Nate. And one was from her mother. Her eyes lingered on the latter, full of disgust. Her nightmare was still with her. She still hadn't forgiven her mother for leaving.

Suddenly, the phone rang, pulling Sam out of her contemplation of her nightmare. Mr. Paddleport walked over to get the phone, grabbing a cinnamon roll as he went. As he stuffed some of the roll inside his mouth, he answered the phone.

With his mouth full he somehow managed to say something resembling "Hello." Mr. Paddleport's eyes widened with joy. He swallowed hurriedly and painfully. "Nathan!"

Now Sam started paying attention. Conversations with Uncle Nate were always interesting. She turned around in her seat and listened. Mr. Paddleport's back was to her. She heard part of a very odd conversation.

"Good, good. How are you?...Yes…Yeah, it came today. …No, not yet. …Yes, I'll tell her today. …Yeah, I'll tell her that too. …Sure, here she is." He covered the receiver with his hand. "Sam. It's your Uncle Nathan." He handed her the phone. Sam rolled her eyes. Honestly, as if she didn't know it was Uncle Nate. She took the phone with enthusiasm.

"Uncle Nate!"

"Happy Birthday, Sam! How's the birthday girl today?"

"I'm good. Can't wait to open your present."

"Well, you'll like it. I promise you. Well, I've got to go. My boss is coming. Fudge is a task master. But, I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay, Uncle Nate. Bye."

"Bye, birthday girl."

There was a click as the line went dead. Sam handed the phone back to Mr. Paddleport to hang up. She started to reach for Uncle Nate's present, but her father stopped her.

"Why don't you open the one from your mother? She always gets you the prettiest jewelry."

"I hate jewelry," grumbled Sam. All the same she redirected her reach to her mother's gift. Sure enough, her mother got her a bracelet. Although it appeared that it would fit her slender wrist, she vowed to never wear it. It would go in the back of her closet along with the rest of her mother's gifts to her.

"Now can I open Uncle Nate's?" Sam whined.

"Just a minute. I want to talk to you first."

Sam wondered what she did. Mr. Paddleport was an excellent writer, but he was not so good when he had to talk about something important. Sam tapped her foot impatiently. Honestly, it was her birthday. She should get to do what she wanted.

"You…er…got a letter today."

Sam looked up curiously. She never got any mail.

"Well, I guess the best way is to just tell you. Samantha," he sat down across the table from her and looked her in the eye, "You're a witch."

The room became unnaturally still and quiet as Sam tried to process this information. Her dad had never lied to her before. What was wrong? Why would he lie? There was one explanation. He didn't lie. He was insane. The years of loneliness, without a romantic interest, have finally driven him off the wall.

"Dad, have you gone crazy?"

"No. It's true."

"If you haven't gone then you're goin'."

"Listen hon. I'm a wizard. You got your magical gene from me."

"No-"

"Haven't you always felt like you haven't belonged? Like you're a little bit different? This is why."

As he spoke, Sam thought it did make sense. It made sense if you were a crazy person. _I'm surprised Dad's sanity lasted this long, _Sam thought. _It would be cool though._

"I can prove it." There was a kind of glow in Mr. Paddleport's eye as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a stick. Sam supposed this would be his "wand." It looked oddly real for a plastic toy. "This is my wand. Dragon heart string at the core, and made of rosewood. 8 inches long. This is how I perform spells. We'll get you one of your very own. Watch. _Accio book._" To Sam's utter amazement, the phonebook Mr. Paddleport was pointing at with his wand zoomed through the air. Mr. Paddleport caught it with ease. Sam sat in a stunned silence. She couldn't say anything. What was she seeing?

"Something else? You see that picture on the counter we've been meaning to hang for ages? Watch this. _Wingardium Leviosa._"

Sam watched as the picture lifted off the counter and floated to the wall with nothing holding it. The picture hung itself on the small nail already in place. No. Her father made the picture hang on the nail. Mr. Paddleport was smiling and Sam's amazed face.

"So, I'm a witch," said Sam, still a little skeptical.

"Yep!"

Sam sighed. "You said I got a letter?"

"Oh yes." Mr. Paddleport pulled something else out of his pocket. He pushed the envelope across the table. Sam looked at the front of the envelope. It was definitely addressed to her. She slid her finger under the flap and tore it open. She took out the thick parchment and slowly unfolded it with trembling fingers.

_Ms. Samantha Paddleport,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Rosenwald Academy._

The letter went on to say how pleased they would be to have her and what she would need to bring.

"Rosenwald Academy?"

"Yes. I've done research on it and we're lucky. It's close. It's also the most prestigious Magical Academy in the United States. It would have been great for you to go to Hogwarts, my alma mater, but Rosenwald is just as good.

"So, do you want to open your other presents now?"

She did want to open her presents. She grabbed Uncle Nate's present and tore off the wrapping. It was a crystal wizard's chess set. Sam loved chess and all of the strategy it involved. Wizard's chess should be a lot of fun. She opened Mr. Paddleport's gift a little slower. _Anticipation is the best part, _Sam thought. It was worth the wait. Inside the box Mr. Paddleport wrapped was a card. The card read "turn around" in his elegant script. Sam's heart was caught in her throat, and she couldn't breath. When she turned she saw her father holding a glorious animal. A barn owl. Why her father had chosen to give her a barn owl she couldn't say. But she loved it just the same.

"It's a him when you get ready to name it," said Mr. Paddleport handing the cage to Sam. "Wizards also use owls to transport their mail. The owls always seem to know where they are going. So, when you want to write me a letter from school, all you have to do is give it to your barn owl. He'll find me."

"Wait. Write a letter? It's a boarding school?"

"I'm afraid so. But don't worry. They'll keep you so busy you won't have time to miss me."

"I guess you're right."

"And there is one more thing."

Sam looked up grimly. She wasn't sure if she could take anymore surprises.

"It's about your mother. She left because of me. Because of what I am, I mean. She loves you, but me being a wizard was too much for her."

"I see," said Sam, eyes smoldering with rage. She was careful not to let her dad see.

"She wanted you to have a muggle, non-magical, childhood. It was her last request before she left."

_What a dumb request,_ Sam thought.

"Muggle?"

"It means non-magical person. We have a lot of catching up to do. I suppose we should get started."

Sam and Mr. Paddleport spent the next few weeks getting ready for Sam's new school. Mr. Paddleport was teaching her all about wizarding customs and phrases. Sam loved every minute of it. Knowledge meant power. So did magic. And she was about to have both.

--

AN: Hey everyone. So, I finally updated. Took me long enough, right? haha. Well, chapter 3 is in the works. It's in my head, I just need to write it down. So hopefully there won't be a two year wait for the next chapter of this story. By the way, Nathan has one one of those old huge eighties cell phones. No one knows he has it, and Fudge would get angry if he did have it, so he hides it.


End file.
